topiary cats

topiary cats

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Corn Horn

I had a white unicorn stuffed animal as a kid. My sister had a matching one, but the mane on hers was shorter, so that's how we told them apart. My sister gave her unicorn a very appropriate and fitting name: Beauty. Me? I named my unicorn Corn Horn. (Corn Horn was a boy unicorn.)

I was thinking about Corn Horn last night while I was practically begging Daya to please fall asleep already. Very often, Daya makes me think of how I was as a kid. I think it's important to remember that. I'm not talking about all the what happened to you as a child and stuff, I'm talking about remembering what it was like to see the world through a child's eyes and think like a kid. The flexibility and fearlessness. And the reasoning.

I remember I was very, very little sitting in a high chair, and a woman with red hair or wearing something brick-red (Aunt Barbara or Grandma Terry?) with a harsh voice was really trying to get me to eat something, and I didn't want to. I was thinking about that, remembering why I didnt't want to, but there was no other reason.

The other thing I think about a lot is Daya when she's in her 60s or later. Theoretically, I might still be around when Daya is in her 60s, but then I might not be. I think about Daya being alive and me being gone, (when she's an adult) and how her life is like and what did she do when I passed on? Her world without me. When I change her diaper I think about how these days are so early, and won't even be thought of years and years from now by Daya and those around her. Daya will change so much, so quickly. Her needs from me will change. Growing up is so, so sad in many ways.

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